Extreme Difference

by D. B. Reynolds-Moreton

  ‘But it won’t fire again, will it?’ asked Sandy.

  ‘No, but they don’t know that!’

  ‘How did you know how to make the gas guns in the first place?’ Sandy asked. ‘That’s quite an advanced weapon.’

  ‘I didn’t make them, they were here when I arrived. I just maintain them, and fill them with gas every day.’

  ‘How does the lever make them go off?’

  ‘I don’t know. I did try to look inside one once, but it wouldn’t come apart. I suppose there must be something inside which lights the gas, but I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it is something like the hammer lump we used, making a spark when you hit it.’

  Sandy’s next question was cut short by the shuffle of footsteps coming down the tunnel. The rest of the group trooped in, headed by Nan, who was looking very pleased with himself. Something must have gone right.

  ‘Sorry I wasn’t at the water experiment, how did it go?’

  They told him, and for the first time the others seemed pleased as well, several offering ‘well done’ to both Ben and Sandy, which surprised him after their former treatment.

  Mop appeared with several large bowls strung one above the other, and plonked them down on the table.

  ‘It’s a cold meal today, but there’s a hot one for tonight,’ she said cheerily, ‘and it’s rather special.’

  The few feeble cheers were drowned out by the groans, but Sandy could not tell which meal was being referred to.

  A mixture of fungi, green leaves, berries and a large bulbous looking fruit which had been sliced into many thin sections was on offer, and Sandy suddenly realized that if he wanted a mixture, he would have to fight his way to the front, as the berries and green leaves were disappearing fast.

  Although the fungi looked hideous, it tasted the best of all, except for the berries, but he didn’t manage to secure many of them in the general melee around the table.

  Mop gave him a sly smile, and popped two berries into his hand as she passed him on her way out of the cavern.

  The meal, such as it was, soon finished, and Kel, the general dogsbody who could turn his hand to anything, asked Sandy if he had any other bright ideas. Not quite sure what sort of answer was required to remain on friendly terms with everyone, he answered ‘Not at the moment.’ and thought he heard a sigh of relief from those nearby. Then again, it could have been the result of the green leaves, which they had all enthusiastically tucked into.

  The afternoon was spent working the new water condenser, after Mop had finished cooking her special evening meal.

  By late afternoon, they had recovered several containers of water, the last few being free from the fine gritty particles which had been in the first morning sample, and Bell gave her plants a good dousing for the first time in their lives.

  While the others took it in turn to gaze in wonder at the mist filled cold cave, Sandy took Ben to one side and asked him about the gas lights.

  ‘I think they were here before any of us arrived,’ Ben informed him, ‘and so was the gas generator.’

  ‘Do you know how that works?’ he asked, hopefully.

  ‘Yes, it’s quite simple really. There’s two big tanks in one of the caves below us. We put all our waste, and I mean all our waste into the tank. All the scraps of Bell’s plants which we can’t eat, bits of rotten cloth, anything which will decompose is dumped in. It rots down producing gas which is piped along fine metal tubes to the gas jets. Each jet has a little knob which will give a full flame in one position, and a tiny ‘keeper’ flame in the other, that way we don’t waste the gas when no one’s around to need the light.

  ‘When the contents are fully decomposed, we start the other tank, removing the remains from the first tank for Bell’s plant bins, mixed with sand, the plants love it!’

  ‘But wait a minute,’ said Sandy, ‘even if you put every tiny scrap of waste possible into the tank, it wouldn’t produce enough gas to light two or three lights continuously, let alone the huge number you have here. There must be another source of gas to keep this lot going.’

  ‘No, just the two tanks, when one is full, we switch over to the other one and empty the first, as I said.’

  ‘Could I see this gas producing plant?’ asked Sandy hesitantly, ‘I mean, would anyone mind if I did?’

  ‘Don’t see why not.’ Ben paused for a moment. ‘I suppose you should see Nan first ’cos he’s in control of everything, and then Jez, as he’s in charge of the tanks.’

  Interest was waning on the water producing cave, and most of the group had drifted away to go about their other tasks, so Sandy, never one to waste an opportunity, approached Nan, and asked about the gas producer.

  ‘Why are you so interested?’ Nan looked surprised at Sandy’s request. ‘It only makes gas for the lights, there’s nothing special about that.’

  ‘It’s the amount of gas it produces, I don’t see how it can make enough to supply all these lights.’

  ‘Hadn’t thought about that.’ Nan looked pensive for a little while, and then the moment of doubt cleared, ‘But it does, somehow. Take Jez with you, he can explain how it works in more detail than I can, he runs the thing.’

  Finding Jez was another matter. No one had seen him or knew what his allotted task for the day was. Sandy, and Ben who insisted on being in on the investigation, were about to give up, when Jez came hurrying out of one of the maze of tunnels and caves which comprised their world.

  ‘You bin looking for me?’ he asked, his short guttural tones matching his solid stocky looking body.

  ‘Good God,’ Sandy thought, ‘he looks more like an ape than a human being.’ But when he tried to visualize what an ape looked like, he was unable to do so. He shook his head, as if to clear away some misty impediment in his mind.

  ‘Yes please. I’m interested in how your gas plant works, I’ve not seen one before.’ He saw no purpose in revealing the real reason for the visit, at this stage.

  It was a long walk to the gas producing cavern, and on the way Sandy began to count the number of lamps with their guttering little flames. In his mind, there was no way this many lights could be fed by the gas plant which had been described to him. He was sure there must be another supply to the system, and he was determined to find it.

  They went down a steep incline, which took them to a level well below that which they normally lived in, and Sandy noticed a sharp drop in temperature.

  ‘Bit cold down here,’ he offered in conversation. ‘Can’t say I’d like to work in this atmosphere for too long.’

  ‘Don’t notice it,’ Jez grunted, as he padded down the tunnel, ‘jus the same as above to me.’

  They came to the gas producing chamber. It was big, and the plant looked lost in so much space. Two large metallic bins, nearly as tall as a man, stood side by side. A network of pipes ran from bin to bin, then into smaller bins, turned, twisted, and eventually ran up to the ceiling and into a box, where a pair of pipes exited to continue their wandering until they disappeared into a hole in the wall which divided the gas cavern from the next chamber.

  ‘This bin’s makin gas,’ Jez said, pointing with a stubby finger at the nearest container, ‘an that one’s bein filled with muck, an’ll be started up in a day or two, if we’s git enough muck, that is.’

  ‘How often do you change them over?’ asked Sandy, trying to be casual in his manner.

  ‘When they’s full.’ Came back the curt reply, Jez did not waste words, or anything else, for that matter.

  The system for switching from one tank to the other was explained in great detail, and Jez warmed to the two inquisitors after a while, as no one usually came down here and showed any interest in him or his work.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Ben on the way back up, leaving Jez to tend his effluent digester. Sandy turned.

  ‘That plant couldn’t possibly produce enough gas to light the chamber it’s in, let along the passageways leading to it. As for the rest of the place, we’d all be gr
oping about in the dark if it were left to those two tanks to produce the gas.’

  ‘Bet Mop would enjoy that! Do you really think there is another supply coming in then?’

  ‘Damn sure of it. I’ll have a word with Nan, we’ll have to get his permission for what I want to do, and that is take a closer look at where the pipes go through the wall.’

  ‘You could have done that just now.’ Ben commented.

  ‘I mean, dig out the hole they go through, I think that’s where the extra supply must come in. Anyway, what gives with Mop? Doesn’t anyone want to, er, satisfy her?’

  ‘Would you?’ exclaimed Ben with a giggle. ‘Poor ’ol Mop’s got a heart of gold, but look at her! Can’t say I’d like a close encounter with her, even if I was starving. I know we all look a bit of a mess, except you, who look as if you’ve just been created, but Mop is a right smelly heap.’

  ‘That’s another thing, why is everyone so unkempt? The only way you can tell the women from the men is that they don’t have beards, and as for their hair, that can’t have been washed or cut since they arrived here.’

  ‘Lack of water mainly, I would think, plus the fact that it’s a damn hard struggle just to survive here. Anyway, you get used to it after a while. You look so totally different, you could have come from another world with your short hair and smart clothes.’

  ‘I’m beginning to think you might have got something there. I certainly don’t feel part of this bunch, no offence meant. As for my clothes, I consider them to be rags, the remains of a uniform I used to wear. Good God, why did I say that?’ Sandy exclaimed, ‘the word uniform seemed the right thing to say, but I can’t get a picture of it in my mind.’

  ‘No good asking me,’ Ben replied, ‘I’ve long since given up any attempt to try and explain things. I just accept ’em for what they are, and try to make the best of it.’

  ‘That’s why you lot are in such a bloody awful mess, you don’t try to make things any better. There’re many things which could be done to improve your lot here.’

  ‘Such as what?’ Ben replied, sounding hurt.

  ‘The water supply, for a start. Now you can all wash, you can drink as much as you like, and if everyone gets a hair cut, we can make a couple of hundred metres of rope.’

  What do we need rope for?’ asked Ben, completely missing the point. Sandy did not even bother to reply.

  When the suggestion about the gas supply was put to Nan, he seemed surprised that anyone would want to do such a thing, until Sandy explained at great length that it would prove the point that things were not quite as they seemed, and therefore if they understood what was really going on, they may be able to better their lot.

  Nan’s permission was eventually given, with the proviso that Jez was ‘otherwise occupied’ at the time, the less people who knew what was afoot, the better, for now.

  Mop had been right, the greasy stew she provided for the evening meal was almost palatable, and Sandy tucked in with a degree of relish which surprised him. He put it down to the fact that he was almost starving, rather than Mop’s culinary abilities, which was perhaps a little unkind, as she had very limited resources to hand.

  To say they all engaged in convivial conversation after the meal would be stretching the point to its limits, a series of muted monosyllabic grunts with their equally short replies dribbled on for a while, and then, one by one, they drifted off to their sleeping quarters, as there was little else to do.

  Holding his breath, Sandy tucked himself into his pile of smelly rags and tried to get comfortable, cursing the day some fatherless person had dispatched him to this hell hole.

  He felt sure that was what had happened. Nothing else made any sense, and as for the ‘created’ theory, he had rejected that out of hand almost immediately.

  He was just drifting off into sleep, listening to the protesting gurgles from his tortured stomach, when a shuffling sound snapped him wide awake again. The cave light had been turned down to its lowest level, so all he could see was a shadowy hulk advancing towards him. His heart raced, and he wondered what best to do, leap up and attack, or feign dead to see what would happen next.

  ‘It’s only me,’ the now soft dulcet tones of a predatory Mop announced silkily, ‘I’ve brought you some more of those delicious berries you like so much.’

  The hulk lowered itself down onto his pile of rags with a wheeze, pinning one arm firmly to the ground, and making it difficult for him to sit upright in the gloom, which he thought was the most effective defensive position he could take up under the circumstances.

  ‘I’m only half awake, and full to the brim with your delicious stew,’ he lied, trying to sound mumblely. ‘I couldn’t possibly eat any more just now.’

  Mop’s greasy fingers groped around his face trying to find his mouth, and having done so, forced the berries in.

  Sandy gagged, but managed to hold the stew in its place for the time being, emitting a grunt as his head went back and banged against the cold stone wall in the process.

  Mop, sensing that high jinks of a sensuous nature were not on the menu that night, reluctantly heaved her not inconsiderable mass back onto her feet, bruising his trapped arm as she put her full weight on it.

  ‘See you in the morning, Sandy.’ she purred, and shuffled away into the gloom.

  The three supplicationary berries flew explosively out of his mouth to splatter themselves on the opposite wall as he let out the breath he had been holding for so long.

  Luckily the stew remained where it was in his stomach, mainly because he was doubled over, and it could not find an easy means of escape.

  The heady aroma of his amorous visitor lingered on for some time, and he wondered how he could institute compulsory washing in the future. Something would have to be done, even if it meant plugging his nostrils and breathing through his mouth.

  Eventually sleep came, taking him out of one nightmare situation, and depositing him into another, complete with sounds and smells.

  Sandy awoke next morning with a thick head, a foul temper, and the decision that after he had scrubbed himself clean, the bed linen would get a good boil, along with the rest of the troglodytes.

  He made his way to the main cavern where a jovial Ben was patiently awaiting him.

  ‘You look a bit shattered!’ If nothing else, Ben was observant. ‘Didn’t you sleep well?’ he asked solicitously.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ a grumpy Sandy replied, ‘life has become a bloody nightmare since I’ve been here, and I'm sure it wasn’t always this way.’

  ‘What do you mean, always? You were only created a short time ago. Life has always been like this, you’ll get used to it soon enough. It’s just a matter of accepting the routine we have here.’

  ‘Wouldn’t bet on that,’ he replied grumpily, ‘anyway, surely you don’t believe you were ‘created’ out on the sands? Come on, think about it, where did you learn to speak, to remember the very words you use? That has to come from somewhere else. This ‘creation’ stuff is a load of s...’ at that moment Nan came into the cavern.

  ‘Ah, hoped to catch you two. This poking about in the gas generating cave, I’m not really happy about it. You might destroy the whole system, and then we would have no lights. Why do you really want to do it? Surely the fact that it works is enough, so what do you hope to prove?’ Nan was visibly agitated, having spent half the night thinking about it, and fearful of the status quo being upset beyond his control.

  ‘Oh it’s nothing much really,’ Sandy responded, trying to sound casual, and failing, ‘I’m just curious how so small a plant can supply so much gas, and at a constant pressure.’

  ‘Well it does, so why question it?’ replied Nan, seeing the argument slipping out of his control, once again.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll not harm it, just want to see how it works. We’ll tell you what we find out, if anything, and then you’ll know a little bit more about this place.’

  Defence and Attack

  Realizing that Sand
y would do his investigation of the gas plant one way or another, Nan reluctantly gave in to his persistent attitude, insisting that he did not fiddle with anything he did not understand, in a last vain attempt to assume some degree of authority.

  ‘Jez is helping Bell plant up some new growing bins, so he’ll be out of your way for a while. Don’t take too long though,’ Nan said as he left the cavern, ‘he'll not like you messing about with his equipment.’

  ‘I don’t think Nan liked that,’ Ben said a little timidly, as they left the despondent Nan, ‘he didn’t look very happy.’

  Sandy gave him a withering look, and asked him to bring along the bar they had used the day before, and something to hit it with.

  On the way down to the gas generating cavern, Sandy pointed out the sections of passageway which had been cut out, as opposed to being naturally worn by water, or whatever nature had used to form them.

  ‘If you look quickly, you’d not notice the difference, so why would anyone go to the trouble of trying to make ’em look natural?’ Sandy asked a perplexed Ben, who just shrugged his shoulders and grunted in reply.

  ‘It seems to me,’ he continued, ‘that someone is trying to make us believe in something other than what is really going on, and that’s what I want to find out.’

  ‘But why?’ asked a worried sounding Ben. ‘You can’t do anything about it, things are as they have always been, and if we alter them, we may not survive. There’s only just enough food, water is strictly rationed,...’ before he could continue his list of excuses not to interfere, Sandy interrupted him with,

  ‘Not now it isn’t, with the water cave.’

  After a quick check around the darker corners of the cavern to make sure Jez was absent, Sandy went over to the two digester tanks in the middle of the cavern.

  ‘The first thing I want to do is reduce, and then cut off the gas supply.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ exclaimed a startled Ben, ‘you’ll plunge us all into darkness and we’ll never get out of this maze of tunnels.’